


Gravity will pull us back together

by MemeKon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKon/pseuds/MemeKon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott slashes Peter's throat and Stiles heaves, Derek hears him taking lungfuls of air, hears him struggle to get it in, and has this bizarre impulse to put hands on him, to put them on his face, to look into his eyes and tell him to calm down, has this strong primal urge to-- to soothe him, even though he's pretty sure he still can't stand him.</p><p>Chris and Allison Argent watch Scott attentively, one with his hand on his gun, and the other biting her lip nervously, looking at the boy like she doesn't know what to expect.</p><p>Scott turns around and his eyes flash red in the darkness, he looks down at his hands covered in blood and Derek feels sorry for him.</p><p>“You're the Alpha now,” he says, but Scott doesn't seem to register his words as he falls to his knees, curling in on himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity will pull us back together

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the Mating Games' 'Fork in the road' themed challenge.

Scott slashes Peter's throat and Stiles heaves, Derek hears him taking lungfuls of air, hears him struggle to get it in, and has this bizarre impulse to put hands on him, to put them on his face, to look into his eyes and tell him to _calm down_ , has this strong primal urge to-- to soothe him, even though he's pretty sure he still can't stand him.

Chris and Allison Argent watch Scott attentively, one with his hand on his gun, and the other biting her lip nervously, looking at the boy like she doesn't know what to expect.

Scott turns around and his eyes flash red in the darkness, he looks down at his hands covered in blood and Derek feels sorry for him.

“You're the Alpha now,” he says, but Scott doesn't seem to register his words as he falls to his knees, curling in on himself.

Stiles drags a breath in, mutters _shit, Scott_ and staggers towards him, dropping in front of him and gathering him into his arms, Scott clutching at the back of his clothes, getting blood all over his nice shirt.

Allison is stunned, still and silent, but soon she seems to come back to her senses takes a few faltering steps towards Scott.

Derek doesn't stay to see the rest of the scene unfold, feels like this is too broken and intimate, like he's violating Scott's privacy by watching him crumble.

He looks at Chris Argent as he's retreating, stares at him hard in the eyes, pins him into place, and hopes that his expression can accurately convey what he's thinking, that stay away from those kids is written all over it.

Argent only takes his hand off his gun, crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to break eye contact until Derek does.

 

A week later, he hears Stiles' jeep's distinct rumble as it gets closer and closer to the wreckage that used to be his family's home. 

He's going for the stair when he hears the door of the jeep slam closed, hears Stiles hissing angrily under his breath.

He's taking the steps lazily, one by one as Stiles storms in, cheeks flushed and eyes alight, disheveled and looking like a pissed off cat.

“You asshole!” He screams as soon as his eyes land on Derek, pointing at him with an accusing finger. “What are you going to do? Let Scott deal with all this on his own? Are you that much of a-- of a dickhead? He's a _newly turned Alpha_ , your Alpha, and you haven't even--”

“ _What_ ,” Derek interrupts him, spitting the word out, as he climbs down the last steps, “am I supposed to do, huh? Drag him out of his house kicking and screaming? You know as much as I do that he won't listen to me.”

 

“You haven't _tried_ ,” Stiles hisses at him and steps closer until he's inches away from him, stands there looking ruffled and-- and like he's barely slept these past few days, dark circles under his eyes, cheeks a little sunken and pale, and the sight does something to Derek's insides, “he's not even-- he doesn't even _let me_ try to help, he's shutting me out, and I'm,” he stops himself then, swallows thickly, looking down, and his shoulders sag.

“You have to help him, man,” he says then, barely a whisper, and he sounds defeated and _scared_.

Something in the picture Stiles makes right then is so wrong that Derek can't put up a fight, can't say no, so he nods, stiff, and then he grunts out a soft _okay_.

 

Scott's reticent about accepting his help at first, but he ultimately does (and he guesses that's Stiles, wearing him down), and he gets better, learns control faster than Derek would have expected, anchors himself and pushes himself, and gets results.

Him and Derek aren't-- they aren't much like pack, but he can tell Scott's making an effort, so he does too. It's stilted and slow going, but it's progress.

 

Stiles keeps being a little shit, infuriating and getting on Derek's nerves until he has to tell him to _shut up_ , because he gets his blood running hot and fast and dangerously intense.

One day when they are on Stiles's room, getting in each other's faces, Stiles pushes back, looks down at Derek's lips, and breathes out _make me_ , smelling like sweat and horny teenager, and Derek should know better, shouldn't give into this because it will only bring him troubles, because Stiles has written _trouble_ all over his gangly body, but Stiles' mouth is right there, parted, lush and obscene and Derek can't even recall what they'd been arguing about (Scott's training regime? Expanding the pack?), can only feel himself _needing_ to do this, to give Stiles what he's clearly _aching_ for.

“I'm gonna _teach you some manners_ ,” he spits out before pushing Stiles against the wall and going in for a dirty, bruising kiss. 

Stiles is all eagerness and fingers digging into Derek's scalp as he clumsily pokes at Derek's lips with his tongue, all obvious inexperience that makes Derek feel _filthy_ , like he's robbing Stiles of some sort of innocence.

The feeling only lasts as long as it takes Stiles to grab at his ass to pull him flush against his body so he can grind boyishly against him, hard already. 

Derek moans against Stiles' lips, closes his eyes as he feels Stiles' hard, clothed dick drag against his hip, needy, and he pulls away from Stiles' wanting mouth so he can bite at his neck hard enough to make Stiles' hips stutter.

“Come on,” Stiles says then, and he sounds wrecked and horny and needy, and like he will climb all over Derek at any moment, like he's ready to blow his load right there in his pants, “come _on_ , weren't you gonna teach me some manners, big guy?”

Derek groans at the way Stiles' voice has gone raw and dirty, low enough to be almost a deep rumble, he bites hard at Stiles neck again, and Stiles' hands go up his back to _claw_ at him, viciously.

Derek gets his hand into Stiles' pants, doesn't bother with finesse or teasing as he unbuttons and unzips him.

As soon as his fingers are a loose circle around Stiles' dick, Stiles is whimpering, touching him all over, hips jerking. He pulls once, twice, then he goes up to the tip, rubs his fingers on the slit and feels them get wet.

“I'm going to make you come,” he says, right next to Stiles' ear, “fast and hard. And then I'm going to put you on your knees and I'm going to _shut you up_.”

Stiles leaks all over his hand, coats his fingers, and Derek keeps jerking him off, fast and constant.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles chokes out, “how are you gonna do that, buddy?”

“I'm gonna _put your mouth to better use_ ,” Derek tells him, letting his lips trail the lob of Stiles' ear as he presses himself against Stiles, lets him feel how hard he is inside his pants, “gonna teach you some discipline, gonna hold you still and _fuck your mouth_ until your lips feel loose and raw and you're too tired to talk back.”

Stiles hisses then, comes all over his hand, messy and sudden, faster than Derek would have expected. It makes his dick ache between his legs, makes him ache to come too.

Derek only has enough time to get his hand out of Stiles' pants before he's dropping to his knees like a ragdoll, looking up at Derek through his lashes, eyes looking like liquid amber, lips red and glistening, and pawing at his belt.

“C'mon,” he says, and he manages to sound _smug_ , “time to put your money where your mouth is.”

Derek looks down at him and his dick _throbs_.

I'm gonna fucking _wreck_ you, he thinks as he helps Stiles unzip him and then puts his hands on Stiles' face, guides him forward until he's mouthing at the bulge in Derek's boxers.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://memekon.tumblr.com)


End file.
